Thoughts and Losses
by bscelsie
Summary: It has been seven months since Callum was supposedly hanged. At the last minute Jude saves him and they escape. Callum thinks Jude killed Sephy, and Sephy thinks Callum was hanged. What will happen when they meet after seven months of no contact . . .
1. Chapter 1

Thoughts and Losses. . .

(Based on book Noughts and Crosses)

_Callum and Sephy live in a world where Crosses (daggers), are superior to Noughts (blankers). The Liberation Militia (L.M.) is a terrorist group who call themselves 'freedom fighters', fighting for equality between Noughts and Crosses. Originally, Callum gets hanged due to his activity with the L.M. But I thought what if at the last minute Callum escaped. . . What if neither of them knew the other was alive. . . and what if they were to meet again. . ._

_**Elsie Richardson**_

_**Sephy**_

I saw him today. Not the pale, ghost-like figure that had been haunting me for the past couple of months, but the corporeal version – and I instantly stopped.

I was at the Dundale Shopping Centre, buying clothes for Callie Rose – she was growing so quickly. I was worried that I wouldn't find a job. Singing at local restaurants wouldn't be enough, especially when Callie started school. Money was dwindling.

It's sad, that me – Persephone Mira Hadley, daughter of _'the Prime Minister made of money'_, Kamal Hadley – was broke. All of this was passing through my mind, but when I saw Callum, all my fears and worries vanished – my mind was completely blank.

My first instinct was to call his name, so he could turn around and look at me – his grey eyes, shining. . . questioning.

But, something made me hesitant to say that simple, two-syllable word. Maybe it was the way he was walking – back hunched, arms crossed, brow furrowed, or maybe it was the fact that everyone clutched their bags tighter when they walked passed him, maybe it simply was the look in his eyes – harsh, unforgiving, ruthless.

Whatever the reason, I was certain that Callum – who supposedly was hanged 7 months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago – didn't want me to know he was alive.

**. . . **

_**Callum**_

This must be some sort of cruel joke. I saw Sephy after, what, six. . . seven months of no contact. Where? The place I rescued her five years ago from a bomb exploding, that my brother, Jude, planted. Which lead to Dad taking the blame, and dying after an attempted escape from prison. Must I say more?

I actually wouldn't have noticed her if, she hadn't come to an abrupt halt. But as soon as the crowd was disrupted, I was on high alert. If the Liberation Militia had taught me anything, it was this: small changes can mean the most disastrous consequences.

As soon as she stopped, my eyes darted to the nearest shop window so I could see her reflection. I was stunned. Thanks to the L.M. – rarely anything catches me by surprise. I had to tear my eyes from that window and keep walking, otherwise, _I'd_ be the one drawing the attention to myself.

Whilst on the train, I had evaluated the situation and come up with the only possible answer: Sephy thought I had been hanged, therefore was dead. Which doesn't really make sense because Jude said he'd killed her. . . Jude. Since when had I believed my brother could be trusted? Maybe, from the time he rescued me before the hanging. But it made sense – if Jude had been telling the truth, he probably would've dragged her dead body up to our apartment and hung her on the wall.

Sephy was still alive . . . Wait. That meant she'd been raising Callie Rose on her own. Our daughter. . . Suddenly, a flash of what could have been filled my eyes, the three of us living together. . . But, it was too late.

Who'd want a father who had threatened, beaten. . . killed?

**. . . **

_**Jude**_

As soon as I saw Cal's face I knew, he knew. How? No ruddy clue. I thought he would it figure out eventually, but I thought I had a couple of years left. Jeez. Seven months was quick – even for Cal.

We stared at each other in silence – no noise except the slow ticking of the clock. After three minutes, when I was starting to get uncomfortable, he asked,

"Why?"

"What?"

I understood perfectly, but I was just trying to buy more time. His eyes hardened.

"Why?" he repeated, whispering, barely audible.

Why had I pretended to kill that dagger? Because you belonged to the Liberation Militia now, who devoted their lives to show _them_ we aren't just 'blankers'. Because that Sephy bitch, pretty much killed Dad. Because there was no way, in any country, in any lifetime, that Noughts and Crosses stop hating each other. Although this was all true, I gave a short, simple answer.

"Because, I had to."

His eyes flashed and, internally, I winced. I was. . . cautious of Callum. Not scared exactly, but. . . something had changed inside of Cal – he was a cold-blooded killing machine and we both knew, though I hated to admit, – if we were to fight – he would be on top.

"What right did you think you had to-"

Anger shot through me, and I lashed out.

"I'm your bloody brother, Callum! Of course I had a right. If you expected me to just sit around and watch that dagger bitch mess with your lif-"

"Sephy."

The anger subsided.

"What?"

"_That dagger bitch_ has a name, you know."

I stared at him.

"What difference does it make?"

"All the difference to me."

This is exactly what I predicted. As soon as he knew, he'd go all soft and pathetic – then back out on us, on me – and go back to that. . . that. . .

"How did you find out about her?" I asked, eventually.

"I saw her at Dundale."

Was this supposed be funny? God, this world had a twisted sense of humour.

"She looked terrible," he hurried on, "Like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages and her clothes were definitely second hand. . ."

Huh. The bastard we call our Prime Minister must have kicked her out when they found out she was pregnant. Well, she deserved it.

"She doesn't know that I saw her, but, I expect she'll be trying to find me."

He actually looked nervous.

I could tell. Just by the look in his eyes – he was thinking about going back to her. Well, Callum, I thought grimly, let's call this a test. A test to determine where your loyalty _really_ lies. . .

**. . . **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Callum **_

It's been five weeks. Thirty five whole days. How many hours? Minutes? Waiting. . . I had been so sure that she would come. But now. . .?

"She'll find me," I assured Jude, when he seemed sceptical. But every time I said so, more desperation would creep into my voice. It sounded like I was convincing myself, rather than him. And he knew it. A slow smirk would spread across his face.

Every night I checked the phone. . . just in case. Every night, I went to bed – my heart heavier than the day before. And every night Jude's smirk got wider, and his step got lighter. I knew he had a part in this. But, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what. And that scared me.

She was the last thing on my mind when I went to sleep, and the first thing when I woke.

_Sephy. . . _

_Why haven't you come . . . ?_

Maybe it was because she simply couldn't find me – the police had been hunting us for months, what chance did she have? Who was I kidding? I know Sephy would search all the corners of the Earth for me. Wouldn't she? I remember the letter I wrote; the one in which I had injected every shred of bitterness, hatred and poison I had ever felt on this Earth. How could I have been so bloody stupid? Of course she wasn't looking for me. She hated me!

God, my life was a mess.

Each day I gradually lost hope. Each day, with no sign from Sephy, was like a knife being plunged into my chest. Worse? I couldn't feel the pain – not without Sephy. I was numb. Each day I woke up full of hope, with high expectations. That was before reality kicked in. Like a blow right to the stomach. She wasn't here. She wasn't coming. She'd never come.

Sephy hated me.

Sephy hated me.

Sephy hated me.

It was like an irritating headache, constantly throbbing in my mind. A headache painkillers couldn't prevent. Like a heart beat hammering against my chest, pumping , spreading remorse through me.

But one day as I was watching Kamal Hadley with disgust on the T.V. going on about some rubbish, it clicked. Just like that. If Sephy wasn't going to find me, I would find her. Simple. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

"Because you're scared," a voice deep inside of me challenged. "Scared of finding her happy, without you."

But isn't that what I wanted? For her to live her life, without my death shadowing her happiness? Wasn't that why I wrote the letter? For her?

I winced, thinking about all the lies; the lies that Sephy would believe about that night. . .

"Yes," the voice continued, "but you're not dead. You still want to be involved in her life: caring for her, raising Callie Rose . . . What if she has replaced you?"

Was I scared? I hadn't the slightest clue. But I did know this: our lives, Sephy's and mine, were going to be entangled until the day we died. Whether I was going to be involved in hers actively? No idea. Did I want to be?

Yes, I did.


End file.
